‘You never asked,’ said Elaine.
‘Typical man,’ said Button. ‘If you’re not talking about them, they’re not interested. Are they all in Belfast?’
‘The two elder ones, Kathy and Joyce. Eight kids between them. Our youngest sister, Sally, lives in London. Got married last year.’
‘And why did nobody snap you up?’ Button asked.
‘Sis!’ exclaimed Shepherd. He knew exactly what she was doing and that he had to play his part.
‘What?’ said Button.
‘It’s okay, Jamie,’ said Elaine, taking his hand.
‘What’s okay?’ asked Button, feigning confusion.
‘Elaine’s husband was murdered.’
Button’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to Elaine. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ said Elaine. ‘Really, it’s okay.’
‘Murdered? Wow!’
‘Sis . . .’ said Shepherd.
‘Jamie, it was a long time ago,’ said Elaine. ‘You don’t have to walk on eggshells.’ She smiled at Button. ‘He was killed by the IRA.’
‘Elaine, how terrible. I’m so, so sorry. You must have been devastated.’
‘They did it in front of me and our son. So, yes, devastated would be about right.’
‘You have a son?’
‘Sis, do you have to interrogate her like this?’
‘I’m just asking, Jamie. Now what have I said?’
‘Elaine’s son died,’ said Shepherd, quietly.
He knew Button was faking her reaction, but she was entirely convincing. ‘Oh, my God,’ she said. ‘Did they kill him too?’
‘Leukaemia,’ Elaine said.
‘Oh, God, that’s awful. A friend of mine had leukaemia at university. She had chemo, her hair fell out and she was sick for months. She had a bone-marrow transplant and that’s what saved her.’
‘We looked everywhere for a donor but no one in the family was suitable,’ said Elaine, ‘so they went through all databases world-wide but still couldn’t get a match.’
‘I’m so sorry, Elaine,’ said Button. ‘Jamie was right, me and my big mouth.’ Tears were welling in her eyes.
Elaine rushed over to her. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ she said, putting her arms around Button and hugging her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ repeated Button, and looked over Elaine’s shoulder straight into Shepherd’s eyes. The tears were fake too, Shepherd realised. Charlotte Button was one cool customer.
‘You weren’t to know,’ said Elaine. She kissed Button’s cheek, then sat down next to her. Shepherd passed across her wine glass. ‘It’s great to meet your family,’ she told him, and touched Button’s glass with her own. ‘It helps to put him in context.’
‘That’s a good thing, is it?’ asked Shepherd.
‘You were a bit of a man of mystery,’ said Elaine.
Button pushed back her sleeve and gasped at the time. ‘I’d better be going,’ she said.
‘You’re not staying here?’ asked Elaine.
‘I’m at the Hyatt,’ said Button.
‘You’re letting your own sister stay at a hotel, Jamie?’ Elaine remonstrated. ‘Shame on you.’
‘It’s my choice,’ said Button.
‘I don’t have a bed in the spare room yet,’ said Shepherd.
‘You can stay with me,’ said Elaine.
‘Maybe next time,’ said Button. ‘The room’s paid for now so I might as well use it. And I’m off early in the morning.’ To Shepherd, she said, ‘Can you call me a cab?’
‘You’re a cab,’ said Shepherd, straight-faced.
Button grimaced at Elaine. ‘I had to put up with jokes like that all the time I was a kid.’
Shepherd called a local minicab company, who promised him a car within ten minutes.
‘Just time for another bottle, then,’ said Button.
Merkulov shivered. He was naked and cold. His bare feet were flat on the concrete and his hands were crossed over his groin. They hadn’t tied him to the chair but there was no need. There were three of them and it had been decades since Merkulov had been anything but mediocre at hand-to-hand combat. He was a thinker, not a fighter, whereas the two men that had accompanied Yokely were muscular and looked as if they could kill with their bare hands. They had taken off their overcoats and were standing behind Yokely, their arms folded across their chests. They wore heavy cotton shirts, dark jeans and workboots.
Yokely was still wearing his coat, though he had unbuttoned it. ‘Sorry about the smell, Viktor,’ he said, ‘but pigs will be pigs.’
There was a grunt to Merkulov’s right and he flinched. In a pen, half a dozen adult pigs were shoving their noses into a metal trough. There were ten pens in the barn, separated by metal bars with peeling paint. The air stank of urine and faeces.
‘Pigs are actually very clean animals, left to their own devices,’ said the American. ‘It’s only because we humans lock them into cells that they live in their own filth. They’re actually closer to us than monkeys. Genetically, there’s little difference.’ He walked over to the pens and looked down at the feeding animals. ‘I’ve never really understood why Muslims hate them so much. Pig kidneys have been implanted in humans, and pig hearts have been used to support failing human ones.’ He looked over his shoulder at Merkulov. ‘So, who is your client, Viktor? Who has been paying for information about me?’
‘His name is Hassan Salih.’ Merkulov knew there was no point in lying to him. They had taken his shoes and clothes, and two long machetes, a pair of industrial bolt-cutters and a carving knife had been placed on a wooden table near the entrance to the barn. His life was in the American’s hands and if he wasn’t completely honest with him the two men with hard eyes would kill Merkulov and feed him to the pigs.
‘And who is this Hassan Salih?’ asked Yokely.
‘An assassin.’
‘From?’
‘Palestine.’
Yokely folded his arms. ‘And he paid you for information about me?’
The Russian nodded.
‘Did he want information about anyone else?’ asked Yokely.
‘Just you,’ said the Russian.
‘That is the last lie you will ever tell me, Viktor. Do you understand? Pigs will eat anything. I’m sure you know that.’
‘I understand,’ said the Russian.
‘Would it help you if I got them to remove a finger? Or a toe? Or an ear? To show how serious I am? Would that help convince you,Viktor?’Yokely gestured at the two men and they went to the table, their boots crunching on the concrete floor.
‘A woman called Charlotte Button,’ said Merkulov, hurriedly. ‘She used to work for MI5 and now she works for the Serious Organised Crime Agency.’
‘And what were you able to tell him?’
‘Not much,’ said Merkulov. ‘No address, no family details. But he had a mobile phone number and I was able to check that out for him. He wanted to know where she was.’
‘And where is she?’
‘Belfast, London and Glasgow, mostly.’
‘He’s using her phone to track her?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Anyone else?’
